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WHO-AM-I-NOW
MOMENTS
How to
Find the Stories of Your Life
Something
happens and the world is different. The cosmic plates
holding heart and head together shift - and shift
again. We’re unsure of where we stand, what to do, who we are.
These moments compel us to wonder, who-am-I-now?
 Who-am-I-now
moments are stepping stones on the path to becoming who
we are. They are like the brightest threads of a tapestry,
like the dash of spice or color that pops the flavor of a dish
or a room. Sometimes, these moments are the spoonful of sugar
that makes the medicine of every day life go down.
Major life transitions trigger
who-am-I-now moments, leaving us confused, fearful,
vulnerable. But these are also moments that prompt new
insights, deeper awareness and previously unimagined
dimensions of ourselves. These moments shape who we are. They shape identity.
It’s not news that who-am-I-now moments
happen. It is news that they keep happening. Your
who-am-I-now moments become the stories of your life. They tell others who you are.
Go to How To Tell Your Stories. Check
out the
Who-am-I-now Review, an easy tool for
discovering the stories of your life. |
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Here’s a
who-am-I-now moment from my life.
My younger sister, two years a mother herself,
said she’d never seen anyone so happy to be pregnant. I
worked until the day before an easy delivery. But after my
daughter's birth, I felt overwhelmed and very alone. Too many
tasks, visitors, presents, schedules. Too much advice and too
little sleep I couldn’t figure out what was important, what
to do first. I felt I lost myself somewhere. I just wanted
to wrap her up and run away to a warm, safe and quiet place.
As the oldest of seven, I was an expert with bottles,
diapers and babysitting, so I figured I could handle a baby –
and everyone else thought so too. But this was so different.
I thought if I could just go back to my office for a few
minutes, I could sort things out. There I knew who I was.
My husband and I lived in a small college
town. My office was in Old Main, an ancient red brick
building with tall windows and floors that creaked. I pulled
on an office outfit, snug but wearable. Then, eyes cast down,
I walked up the hill hoping I wouldn’t pass anyone I knew. I
found mail and messages piled on the desk, plants desperate
for water, more dust than usual in that old building,
I sat at my desk for some time surprised that
everything was still the same when I was so different. Gradually, I began to feel back in touch with myself – the
counselor, professor - and the new mother. I felt a deep
breath rising and, breathing out, I knew I’d be able to handle
pretty much whatever happened. Since then, after any big life
change, I’ve tried to keep a bit of time and space for myself.
I need to pull back and reframe. Then I see clearly again.
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